


Mother's Day

by bradlcyjams



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Guilt, Mother's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3919162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bradlcyjams/pseuds/bradlcyjams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn't matter how long ago it was, it will always hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother's Day

He missed her. It didn’t matter that he never got to meet her; it never stopped him from missing her voice, her touch, her love; her. It was hard to remember what he never had but it was even harder to forget. Arthur  had nothing but made up images of his own mother’s smile, how she  sounded when she laughed or even how was her voice when she sang  him lullabies. He didn’t know and would never know. And it was all his fault.

If only he had never been born, she would still be here. She would be healthy, alive. The world would be able to hear her laughter for God knows how many more years, Camelot would have their missed Queen, his father would be HAPPY. If only he hadn’t ruined everything. So selfish, to take away such a beautiful life from this world only so he could be here today.

Growing up, he watched the kids in the kingdom and their mothers, saw how they ran to them and jumped up in their arms, or how they were scolded if they ran too far away because they were worried they would get lost; hell, what wouldn’t he give to have heard his mother’s worry for once? To feel her love for him before she could leave him forever? He never meant for her to die. He never meant to take her life. He missed Igraine so badly.

So odd, to miss something he never had. But he did. In his dreams, he had it all. He felt her touch, had her kisses, felt the tickles of her hair against his skin and they giggled together.

 

Staring at the mirror, her eyes stared right back at him. It was torture being so familiar with someone he would never know. He carried a piece of her inside him, whether he liked it or not. But how could he know where it started and where it ended? He didn’t know better; never enough to compare.

Every comment of how MUCH he reminded people of his mother was both a blessing and a curse at the same time. He felt pride swelling in his chest for being able to hold onto the little bit of her he had, even if it was only his looks or something he said, and at the same time, he grieved the memory of her he would never have; felt jealous that they could hold on to that piece of her he would never get to see for himself.

It hurt to try to retrieve memories he never had. It hurt to think of the mother he never knew. It hurt. 

Still does.


End file.
